Innocence Fading
by redcandle
Summary: Angelina looks at her classmates and wonders which of them will soon be facing her across the battlefield. Drabble.


Disclaimer: All recognizable characters and elements belong to J.K. Rowling.

There was one week of classes left at Hogwarts for them. One more week before they went out into the real world. One week until they had to confront the war brewing outside the walls of Hogwarts castle. One more week until they had to choose which side they would fight for.

Angelina already knew which side she would fight for. She'd made her decision the day she walked into the Three Broomsticks for the first meeting of Dumbledore's Army. It hadn't been a difficult decision. She was a Gryffindor, of pureblood but muggle-friendly parentage. She'd been raised to stand up for what she believed in. And she intended to do just that. She looked around the midmorning Charms class, her gaze lingering on each classmate for a moment.

Alicia, Lee, and Katie would also fight for Dumbledore, Harry, and harmonious relations between muggles, muggleborns and purebloods. Like her, they each carried a small metal disc in their pockets as a sign of their commitment. They were ready for the war. Angelina thought about her fellow Gryffindor seventh years. The world wasn't black and white. Gryffindor was not synonymous with "righteous warrior." There were several Gryffindors who fully intended to stay out of the coming conflict.

"Not my business," one of them said.

"The ministry will take care of it," said another.

Angelina pitied their naivety. She knew that, to Lord Voldemort and his supporters, you were either with them or against them. To remain neutral meant you were a muggle lover or too cowardly to support your fellow purebloods. She turned her attention to Livia Jones, ignoring Professor Flitwick's lecture. Jones's cousin might be an auror, but that didn't mean the girl herself was avidly anti-Death Eater. They always worded their comments carefully, people like Livia Jones and Richard Fry. They made sure they never said anything pro-Voldemort or anti-muggle, conscious that most members of their house were muggleborn or pureblood muggle lovers.

"I'm not some kind of pureblood supremacist," Livia had said. "But we do have to think about what all these muggles finding their way into our world will mean, you know." She'd looked at the first years being sorted, "There are more of them each year."

"You've got to admit that things are changing because of them," another Gryffindor had said once. "Our culture's dying. I mean, most wizards of our generation wear muggle clothes now."

Angelina twisted her head slightly to watch the members of the Slytherin Quidditch team seated behind her. Montague was finally out of the hospital wing, though he didn't seem to be back to normal. He hadn't kicked the back of her chair under the guise of stretching his legs once all class. Their eyes met and he didn't glare or leer at her. He looked surprised to see her, like they hadn't been in the same classes for seven years now. Whatever had happened to him after Fred and George pushed him into that Vanishing Cabinet, it seemed to have left permanent damage. She wasn't sadistic enough to be happy about it. While Montague might not be the nicest guy in the world, his family had no known connections to the dark arts. Who knew if he personally supported Voldemort or not?

Warrington, on the other hand, was vocal enough about his support for Voldemort's agenda among his fellow students. He was full of anger and resentment about something, and muggleborns made a convenient target. Bletchley verbally agreed with Warrington in public, but Angelina never saw him trying to hex muggleborn students or intimidating them in dark corridors.

Other Slytherins, like Francis Avery, openly bragged about their Death Eater relatives and the instructions in the dark arts they received at home. Angelina had overheard a Slytherin girl talking about how her parents were showing her how to use the Cruciatus curse on their house elf. But most Slytherins, true to the nature of their house, were concerned with their own selves first and foremost. A good number of them had decided that Voldemort would reach the same end as Grindelwald and other dark wizards who'd popped up over the centuries; they'd made a point of repeatedly declaring their loyalty to the ministry.

She wondered which of her classmates would face her clothed and masked as a Death Eater, their wands raised to cast the Killing Curse at her. Alicia nudged her and pointed to their open textbook. Angelina refocused her attention on the spell Professor Flitwick was teaching them, after all, it could save her life one day soon.

END

Author's Note: I know the majority of witches and wizards don't say Voldemort's name aloud, but for the purpose of this fic, I assume that they do use his name in the privacy of their own thoughts.


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